Scary Can Be A Good Thing
by gldnwrtr
Summary: This is post episode Headless Witch in the Woods, and is an Angela and Hodgins romance. Some erotic scenes are included. This is for mature readers only! I had to create a world for Jack Hodgins, so there are details in this story that are not canon.


Disclaimer: These characters are the property of FOX--but they have escaped to have a little fun with me.

Summary: This is post "Headless Witch in the Woods" where we imagine what might have happened when Angela went home with Jack. For mature readers only!

Scary can be a Good Thing

(Chapter 1)

"Can I stay at your place tonight?"

It took Jack Hodgins several seconds to process Angela's request. His automatic reply, "Sure… no problem," was followed by the delayed feeling of elation he was now trying very hard to mask. Despite his best efforts, the corners of his mouth twitched in a smile. By the time he turned to face Angela, he had managed the smile into an expression of sympathy.

"This has been a rough day for you," Jack empathized as he leaned over to turn off the video monitors. "Let's leave the rest of this for tomorrow."

"Tomorrow is Saturday," Angela corrected him. Her face was still a couple shades paler than normal and her voice trembled slightly. "You must think I'm the biggest baby…" she trailed off, tidying her workspace while avoiding his eyes.

At that moment, Jack loved her more than ever. To see Angela vulnerable like this made his heart ache with a previously unfelt emotion. He resisted the urge to move toward her. Instead, he tried to keep the moment light, but without letting his advantage slip away. Some part of him felt like a cad, but all's fair in love and… well, love.

"The rest of the footage will keep until Monday morning. Look, it's past 8:00, and I haven't had anything to eat since that bowl of stale popcorn. That was hours ago. I don't think you've eaten since this morning. How about I buy you dinner?" Jack flashed Angela a smile of encouragement. "Do you want to follow me to the house, or...?" He trailed off, the moment lapsing into awkwardness between them.

For the first time in several minutes, Angela looked into his eyes. He saw some hesitation, a question behind them. The question, however, was one she was asking herself. Finally, slowly, she answered him.

"Yeah, let's get out of here. But I don't think I have much of an appetite." She picked up her coat and began to head for the door.

Jack moved quickly to follow her, afraid that if she got too far ahead of him he'd lose this opportunity. "So, we really didn't work out the logistics. Are you going to follow me, or..?"

Angela paused at the door before turning to face him. She was obviously embarrassed when she finally answered him. "Could I ride with you? I _really_ do not want to be alone tonight—even in my own car. I am such an unbelievable coward."

Jack had to hide a smile for the second time that evening. "You know, low blood-insulin levels can sometimes trigger feelings of panic and anxiety in emotionally sensitive people."

Angela smiled weakly. "I don't know _what_ you're talking about, Jack."

The tension was broken. Jack breathed out in relief as he grinned back at her. "Baby, you really _do_ need have some dinner, and I know a guy who's buying."

(Chapter 2)

She had been to Jack's house once—the day she had brought him home after the time he spent recuperating in her care. Three days of recuperation to be exact, most of which he slept through, thankfully. Although she knew he was rich, the reality of his wealth had still stunned her the first time she drove up the long drive and saw the Georgian-style mansion appear from behind a grove of sycamore trees. She remembered Jack glancing at her nervously, almost apologetic. He had tried so hard to be just Hodgins, the bug-and-slime guy, and now the jig was up.

"In my defense, it's been in the family for four generations. However, I do realize that I won't be allowed to make any more noises about conspicuous consumption, and the right-wing conspiracy to perpetuate a culture of wealth in order to control the masses," Jack had joked. Angela could see that he needed her to say something, anything, to let him off the hook.

She decided to be honest. "It's gorgeous, Jack. You'd be a fool to throw all of this away on principle. I'd live here in a heart-beat."

Jack had looked at her strangely, his expression soft as he took in her words. "No, I can't complain," he smiled.

Angela decided not to let him off so easy after all. "No, you can't," she said firmly, continuing to admire the graceful lines of the house as it came closer in view.

That had been three weeks ago.

Neither spoke much after leaving the restaurant. Jack had taken Angela to one of his favorite little hole-in-the-wall Italian restaurants. She had to admit that she felt better after eating, and could have gone home to sleep in her own bed. For whatever reason, she kept that thought to herself, and allowed the events she had set into motion earlier in the evening to continue to play out.

Now, at a little past nine, Jack's 1960 Austin Healey was purring along River Road as it ran parallel to the Potomac River. Angela had watched the city lights grow more distant as they entered the wooded landscape that hid some of Maryland's most exclusive estates, including Jack's. It looked different at night, the woods dark and foreboding like one might expect to encounter in a fairytale. She rationalized that feeling this way was to be expected, considering she had just spent hours watching macabre events unfolding in a different woodland location. Jack seemed nonplussed. After all, this was his ancestral home, so to speak.

She really didn't want to be alone tonight, but if she were going to be honest with herself, she'd have to admit that it didn't have to do entirely with fear. Despite her resolve to keep her relationship with Jack on the purely platonic level, events kept pushing to weaken that resolve. Her resolve had received its worst blow when she was faced with the possibility of losing him. When she had imagined him dead, she had felt something deep inside her heart flutter with a pain that was almost unbearable. Seeing him alive again had brought her a feeling as equally intense, but in the form of joy. Of course, she had had similar feelings concerning her friend, Brennan, but was surprised to find that it was Jack who kept taking prominence in her thoughts on that day.

When Jack spent those three days at her place, she got to know him in a way that was impossible during their workdays at the Jeffersonian. She had a chance to meet the man inside Jack that was humble, and not a little vulnerable. When he wasn't sleeping in her guest bed, with her never too far away, he was awake and talking. They talked about everything and nothing for those three days. She learned more about him in those few waking hours than she had in all the months she had known him. That he was extremely intelligent, was a given. Anyone who worked in his capacity had to be. That he could be very funny and charming was just beginning to be revealed to her.

The most amazing quality he had shown her was a degree of solicitousness towards her feelings that she had never experienced with a man. Never in a million years would she have imagined Jack Hodgins to be the kind of guy who could pick up on a comment about swings, remember it, and design an experience for her simply in order to please her. She had assumed the evening would be all about getting her into bed, and she had braced herself to rebuff any advances he might make. Instead, by the time he moved in to kiss her, every defense she had carefully erected had melted away. No kiss had ever been more sweet, yet insistent, and she had responded by participating fully. And then, Jack did something strategically brilliant—he had broken off the kiss first, and did not touch her again that evening.

Tonight, he had again demonstrated sensitivity to her feelings by staying with her through that horrid film footage. She felt safe with him, on more than one level. The truth was, after spending all day with him, she didn't want it to end.

As Jack pulled the car into a small carport at one side of the massive house, Angela began to panic. Her rational mind clung to Brennan's anthropological theory about dating in the workplace. My God, what _am_ I doing here? Is he going to think that I want to sleep with him? _Do_ I want to sleep with him?—NO, don't go there, Angela. Her mind was reeling. She had basically invited herself over to spend the night with Hodgins, and frankly, she had no idea _what_ she was doing.

All the while as these thoughts were spinning around in her brain, she was smiling over at Jack who had cut the ignition. "I thought you kept your cars in a garage below Zach's apartment?" she asked, just to break the silence.

"I do, but the garage is way the hell over there," Jack answered, waving a hand vaguely in the direction of another driveway. "…and I park here when it's late and don't want to wake Zach. Here, wait—let me get the door for you."

(Chapter 3)

Later, after Jack had led Angela through a labyrinth of rooms and hallways on the first floor, they were sitting in his favorite room, the place he called "the den." It was an interesting room, one filled with bookshelves containing hundreds of books on every subject, and littered with an eclectic mix of artifacts and oddities that he had collected over the years. The walls above the bookcases were hung with obscure yet interesting pieces of art and a few framed photographs of magnified mineral compositions that probably only Jack could identify. A huge fireplace took up one side of the room. Jack had lit it as soon as they arrived. The couch they sat on was full of overstuffed pillows, and the end tables were covered with a scattering of newspaper pages, magazines, science journals, and notes Jack had written on various projects he was working on, like the soil analysis he was doing for a neighbor who wanted to grow exotic fruit trees on his property.

"I would have cleaned up if I'd known I was having company," Jack apologized, pushing papers out of the way to clear a spot on a mahogany coffee table. He had brought out a bottle of vintage pinot noir and began filling two glasses.

"Doesn't your housekeeper do that for you?" Angela teased, settling back against a cushion.

Jack colored up a bit and cleared his throat. "Uh, not all of the time. I _am_ capable of doing things for myself. She might run the vacuum through here, but I like to be responsible for my personal rooms in the house. Believe it or not, I even cook for myself most of the time—though Maria does make a mean vegetarian empanada. She cooks more for Zach than she does for me, otherwise, the guy would starve."

Jack was rewarded by one of Angela's brilliant smiles. She looked so lovely, legs drawn up under her with the firelight reflecting in her eyes. He hurriedly handed her a glass, feeling like he should keep busy and keep talking.

"I don't entertain company here very often," Jack explained, trying to appear casual as he slid his copy of _Paranoia_ magazine under the November issue of _Journal of Forensic Science_.

"Really?" Angela raised a skeptical eyebrow as she took a sip of her wine.

Jack knew what she was implying. "Yes, really," he affirmed. "I don't bring women here if that's what you're wondering. I have an apartment a couple miles from the Jeffersonian. I stay there when I'm working late and when I'm… when I have company. God, I hope that doesn't sound as sleazy as I think it does."

Angela smirked. "Remember Hodgins, I've seen you in action. I'm sorry to say that the term 'sleazy' has come to mind more than once after listening to the kinds of stuff you and the other guys in the lab talk about."

Jack grinned sheepishly at Angela's appraisal of his behavior. He couldn't defend himself. He was guilty as charged.

"I hope you don't hold my past behavior against me, Angela." Jack held her eyes with his own.

"No, Jack. You've only ever treated me with respect," Angela admitted, her face serious. "That's more than I can say about _a lot_ of the men I've known."

Jack saw the briefest of shadows cross her face. He knew she was a woman who had been disappointed in love. He reached out and touched her hand that was on the couch next to him. She didn't pull away.

"Thanks, I hope I never give you a reason to think that I don't respect you," Jack answered sincerely, and then added, "By the way, your hair smelled _incredible_ when you had your head on my shoulder today."

Embarrassed, but laughing, Angela parried, "Yeah, and I was relieved to discover that you put on clean shirts in the morning."

"You can thank Maria for that one. Not that I haven't been known to do my own laundry…" Jack was quick to add.

An awkward moment of silence followed. Angela looked down into her glass.

"You must be tired. Don't let me keep you up. Maria made up one of the guest rooms for you," Jack said, concerned that Angela might be wondering about the sleeping arrangements.

"I hope your housekeeper didn't go to any extra trouble on my account," Angela worried.

"No," Jack assured her, "If anything, Maria was in raptures that I actually brought a woman home with me. I think she was beginning to wonder if I was…"

"Gay?" Angela finished his sentence.

Jack laughed. "Yeah, she only knows I keep a young guy over the garage, one she has to feed and who doesn't do a lot of entertaining himself. Maria doesn't know the Jack Hodgins you know."

A moment of awkwardness followed.

Angela broke the silence, "Yeah, I think I am ready to go to bed now," she said, standing and setting down her empty glass.

Jack stood too, picking up her overnight bag from beside the couch. "Okay, follow me."

Jack led Angela through more corridors and up the winding staircase that seemed to be located in the center of the mansion. He stopped in front of a door at the far end of the hallway from the staircase. "This one has the best view. In the morning you'll be able to see the river through the trees from the balcony. My room is down at the other end of the hall, where the Bodmer print is hanging—just in case you need anything…" he trailed off, wondering if he seemed as transparent as he felt at that moment.

"I'll manage," Angela replied, reaching for the door handle to her room. "Goodnight, Jack, and thanks…"

"Sure. Goodnight," he called after her, watching her disappear into the bedroom. _Now, what did you expect was going to happen?_ He chastened himself, as he turned to go to his own room down the hallway.

(Chapter 4)

Angela had showered in the beautifully appointed bathroom that was part of the guest suite, and climbed into a large four-poster bed that had been turned down for her by Maria. She estimated that an hour must have passed since she'd closed her eyes and tried to fall asleep. The room was cast in unfamiliar shadows, and the quiet was almost deafening. The only sound that broke the stillness was the occasional creak and groan of the old structure as it shifted and settled in the cool of the night. These sounds were extremely disconcerting to Angela. Logically, she knew that nothing was going to crawl out of the closet or out from under the bed, but her heart was pumping adrenaline through her nonetheless.

"Damn!" she thought, as visions of the would-be spectral figure on the video tape replayed itself in her mind unbidden for the umpteenth time. She imagined Jack down the hall, probably sleeping like a baby. She would feel a lot better if his room were closer to her own.

A loud _thump_ in the ceiling above her made her sit bolt upright. She knew then that she would only feel better if she were awake and had some company. Sleep was now completely out of the question.

Clad only in an oversized _Hard Rock Cafe_ tee-shirt and a pair of pink Fruit-of-the-loom underwear, Angela crept nervously out of the guestroom, pausing to look down the dimly lit hallway. She mentally cursed herself. It didn't help. All she could think about was Jack, her savior from things unseen, who was just beyond her reach behind one of those doors. _Now, which one of these is the Bodmer?_ she queried. As an artist, she should know.

She passed several original oil paintings, mostly Turners, until she came to the Bodmer. It was a series of landscapes featuring unusual rock formations, detailed and faithful to the original subject. Something Jack would appreciate, she noted.

The door to Jack's bedroom was slightly ajar. Angela paused, feeling foolish and conflicted. It seemed so simple a few minutes ago. She would stand in the doorway and call his name until he woke up. They would return to the den and he would sit up with her the rest of the night.

_No,_ she thought, _I can't wake him up. What am I? A five-year old?_

Whether it was a gust of air from an open window, or a former resident of the house, one of the doors across from Jack's room began to move on its own with a creak. Angela felt her mouth go dry and her heart begin to pound, and with one sudden bolt she was through the door to Jack's room and fumbling in the dark towards the sound of deep breathing.

When the vague outline of his bed appeared in front of her, she scrambled up on it, not knowing which end was foot or head. The creaking noise continued out in the hallway, and before she knew it, she had crawled under the covers and was bumping up against a warm body.

Angela felt a shoulder, and the soft material of a tee-shirt. Pressing her face against its firmness, she smelled laundry soap and Jack. Immediately, her body relaxed. She was safe now. Safe, at least, from ghosts.

(Chapter 5)

Jack rolled over on his back and tried closing his eyes once again. Besides the fact that he couldn't get the thought of Angela in bed down the hallway out of his mind, he heard the faint creaking of the door across the hall.

_Damn… Forgot to close the window in my study again… I really need to finish up that soil analysis for Mike next door… I hope Zach remembered to set the security alarm on the garage this time… I wonder what Angela wore to bed tonight… _

These and other thoughts buzzed around Jack's head as he willed himself to fall asleep. He attempted a deep breathing exercise that usually helped relax him.

Jack was concentrating on his breathing when he felt the bed shake. There was a movement of the covers followed by something bumping up against his arm. Turning his head, he immediately caught the sweet, musky scent that was her.

"Angela?" he said with some disbelief. Instinctively he raised his arm to put it around her. She burrowed closer to him, hiding her face in his chest.

"Okay, there is something _really_ creepy going on in your house, and I'm scared shitless to be alone," replied Angela defensively, her voice muffled in his tee-shirt.

"You think my house is creepy?" Jack responded, feigning hurt feelings.

Finding he couldn't help himself, he rolled over on his side until he was effectively cradling her in his arms. She was now looking up at him, a shaft of starlight dimly illuminating her face, her brown eyes searching his.

"Well, it is a little scary," she began, dipping her head again to hide it beneath his chin. "There're all these weird noises and the door across the hall opened by itself…" she trailed off, sounding unsure.

Jack wanted to laugh, but restrained himself. He should probably explain about the open window, but decided not to.

"Yeah, you know how these old houses are," he murmured into her hair, pulling her closer. She didn't resist.

"How… how are they?" she managed, lifting her face to his so he could feel her breath mix with his own.

"You know, _scary_…" Jack whispered. Every nerve in his body was on high-alert and he could feel his pulse throbbing in a dangerous way. It was useless to pretend he had any self-control left.

Tangling the fingers of one hand in her soft hair, he closed the distance between them. Her mouth opened immediately beneath his, her arms coming up around his neck. Needing her closer, Jack pulled her hips toward him. She answered by sliding one leg over his, allowing more intimate contact between them. He was painfully hard by now.

Angela was breathing heavily under their kiss, her tongue sliding to meet his, hands grappling with his shoulders, reaching around to draw him in yet closer. Jack pulled away long enough to strip off his tee-shirt. Without hesitation, Angela sat up and stripped off her own as well.

"Angela," Jack breathed, taking in the sight of her smooth skin and the soft curve of her breasts. Within seconds she was in his arms again. His mouth on her neck, palms sliding along her arms, over her belly, and up to caress the swell of her breasts, Jack felt every disappointment, every frustration of the past few months melt away. He was about to make love to the goddess of his dreams, and that made him the luckiest man alive.

Despite every rational argument she had had with herself prior to this point, Angela realized that something more primal had taken over. Jack's tender yet teasing response to her fear had only made her more aware of how much she wanted and needed him. When he reached for her and pulled her into the warmth of his body, she was surprised by his strength and confidence, and she melted in his arms. _Sorry Brennan, your anthropological theories suck_… she thought as her mouth opened to allow Jack's tongue to caress her own.

When their bare skin finally made contact, Angela ran her hands appreciatively over Jack's lean, muscular form, fingers threading through the light curls at his chest and belly. Her attentions did not go unrewarded, but seemed instead to inspire Jack to pursue a more aggressive exploration of her body. He began at her neck, kissing and nuzzling, causing Angela's breath to hitch in her throat as nerve endings fired off signals of pleasure to her brain. The pleasurable sensations continued in the wake of Jack's mouth as he moved his head to her breast, one hand stroking its fullness while his tongue moved in soft, slow circles around her nipple. Her uneven breathing gave way to sighs of approval and encouragement. Jack moved his head to her other breast, murmuring words of adoration that resonated with her emotionally.

Although his hands had not wandered below her naval, her panties were wet with desire. Deep in her core, the arousal was almost painful. Angela buried her fingers in the thick curls on his head, wanting to pull him up to her, to kiss him again, to bring him inside her body and let him work out the sweet tension that was building there. "Jack," she implored him, "I need you now…"

He resisted, smiling up at her with devotion, but determined in his purpose. "Not yet Baby, I just got started." He lowered his head once more, and began trailing kisses down her stomach, his beard tickling as he went. Angela squirmed, anticipating.

She realized that Jack was maneuvering around between her thighs, and she let them fall open for him. He ran a palm slowly along the inside of her thigh, fingers stopping just short of the hem of her panties. Angela clutched at the bed sheets in an effort to control her trembling. He was kissing and stroking the insides of her thighs now.

She couldn't believe he was this good, this patient. She didn't know if she could take the teasing for much longer. "Jack…" Angela pleaded, unable to finish.

Jack moved his caresses further up her thigh and began running a finger back and forth alongside the hemline of her panties. "What do you want me to do next?" he said in a low whisper.

Although Angela was sure that Jack knew perfectly well what she wanted him to do, she was playing by his rules now, and she was getting hotter by the minute.

"Take them off… take my panties off…" she begged.

"Thought you'd never ask," Jack grinned wickedly, and immediately slid the offending garment off her in one, smooth movement. "Now what?" he continued mercilessly.

"Jack…" Angela appealed to his better nature. She was finally rewarded when he dipped his head obligingly and began to pleasure her in earnest.

_He certainly is good_, thought Angela, amazed. That was the last coherent thought she had before sensation took over. His tongue languidly circled her clit, never quite touching it, while his hands gently gripped her thighs, holding them open. She was moaning rhythmically now, the pleasure almost unbearable. Holding on to the bed sheets wasn't going to sustain her for much longer. Flailing her arms behind her, she found and caught hold of bed frame's brass railing. It was a good thing too, because Jack's tongue was now working her with firm, quick strokes.

"Jack… OH MY GOD… OH MY GOD… OH MY GOD…" Angela heard herself repeating over and over again as deep, intense waves of pleasure began to undulate from deep inside her. Shuddering violently, her words trailed off in a long, keening cry of release. Jack continued, unrelenting; until he had coaxed her last knot of pleasure to unwind, leaving her satiated, but still breathing heavily.

For several seconds, Angela lay motionless, trying to get her breathing back to normal. _Jack just scored some major points in his favor_, she mused, laughing softly, but audibly.

"What's so funny?" Jack chided, pulling himself up to lay next to her. His face glowed with perspiration, and his beard and moustache glistened with traces of her. Despite his untidiness, his face bore a smug look that clearly indicated he was proud of his work.

Angela turned her head to look at him, smiling broadly. She couldn't help it. "That was great, Hodgins. I don't _even_ want to know where you learned how to do it like that." Reaching up a hand, she pulled him by the beard into a kiss.

"Angie…" he murmured into her mouth. "It's all for you now Baby, all for you."

Angela opened her mouth to him again, tasting herself and finding herself sweetly moved by it. His kisses rapidly turned fierce, and she remembered that the poor guy was still in an unresolved state of arousal. Angela found the opening in his boxer shorts and tentatively ran her fingers along his erect shaft. Jack groaned heavily into her mouth. _Perfect_, she thought, pleased with what she'd found. _He's got the perfect size dick that's stayed hard for me all this time… _

"Why are you still wearing these?" Angela chastened him, tugging at the waistband of his boxers.

"I don't have the slightest fucking idea," Jack replied, and proceeded to get rid of them.

"Come here," she whispered, pulling him to her. He didn't resist, but climbed gratefully on top of her. Jack didn't need any encouragement. Angela felt the rigid head of his cock push into her, its girth filling her, stroking where his tongue had not been able to reach.

"I think I'm in heaven…" Jack breathed into her shoulder. He began kissing her neck, running his tongue along her clavicle, and then returning to her mouth to devour her--all the while moving inside her with slow, deep thrusts.

Angela felt the residual tension from her earlier arousal begin to build again as Jack's thrusts rubbed her clitoris both inside and out.

"Oh fuck, Jack!" she gasped, splaying her legs in order to increase the sensation. Her orgasm was building fast this time.

Jack took that to mean oh-fuck-me-Jack, and he did just that. He pumped her feverishly, and Angela moaned her satisfaction as his efforts triggered a second, explosive climax.

As she relaxed beneath him, the blood that was roaring in her ears beginning to subside, she realized that he was just as rock-hard as before.

"Sweetie, haven't you come yet?" she inquired tenderly, kissing his ear that was pressed to her cheek.

"Not yet," Jack admitted. He raised himself on his elbows, and proceeded to kiss her face; soft, warm kisses that told her that he adored her.

She wanted him to move inside her, but he remained stubbornly still from the waist down. Instead, he continued to kiss her. Finally, he shifted his hips slightly. Angela felt a twinge of pleasure and gasped. Taking that as his cue, Jack moved into action. Slim hips began thrusting deeply and rapidly as Jack coaxed one last orgasm from Angela. These final vestiges of pleasure she felt as shallow ripples of intense sweetness. Jack continued to thrust out of control until she felt him stiffen in her arms, gasp her name out loud, and then collapse on top of her, drained.

Rolling over with her in his arms, Jack kissed the side of her head softly. Angela knew then that her life was going to be completely altered by the time the sun came up that morning.

"I guess you can pretty much ignore everything I said about us just staying friends," she ventured, rubbing her cheek against his beard.

"I already have," Jack replied, deadpan.

"So, you never had any intention of respecting my feelings, did you?" Angela baited him.

Kissing her forehead, his voice became sincere, "Honey, your feelings were why I didn't give up. I'm in love with you Angela, and I'm not just saying that because I just got laid—although if I didn't love you already I probably would after tonight."

Angela let Jack's declaration sink in for a few seconds. Perhaps she'd known it all along.

"Maybe I'm in love with you too," she admitted. "Or maybe we can blame it on all the scary things that got me into your bed tonight."

Jack smiled, pulling her closer. "Baby, scary can be a _good_ thing."


End file.
